


Fifteen

by jjjjuicy



Category: IT (2017), IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Henry Bowers Being an Asshole, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Soulmate AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-11-29 06:44:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20958998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjjjuicy/pseuds/jjjjuicy
Summary: A fifteenth birthday means you'll feel your soulmate's pain and they'll feel yours.A fifteenth birthday is a big fucking deal, and Henry Bowers is a big fucking asshole.





	1. i.

**Author's Note:**

> i've decided to make this into a full blown story... haha...

A fifteenth birthday is a big fucking deal.

A fifteenth birthday means that you and your soulmate finally get linked, no matter their age (but it's usually within a year of yours).

A fifteenth birthday means that you'll be able to fear any intense emotions your soulmate feels and they'll feel yours.

A fifteenth birthday means you'll feel their pain and they'll feel yours.

A fifteenth birthday is a big fucking deal.

The Loser Club is walking an a clumped line, all wet with their clothes stuck to their skin from not drying off enough after jumping in the quarry, all loudly singing to Richie. He's the oldest of the group, and therefore the first to turn fifteen.

"H-Happy fifteenth birthday." Eddie said timidly.

"Eds, you're so adorably sweet!" Richie coos immediately, throwing his arm around his friend and pulling him closer, leaning his head against him with a bright smile. The day was coming to an end, and all around the oranges of day were slowly turning purple.

"Happy fifteenth birthday, fag!" A high-pitched voice called out, causing the group to pause. It was long enough- suddenly, there was a burst of action, and Richie was pulled off Eddie and away from the others. Eddie and the others tried to grab him but were all too late, only grasping at his shirt before it slipped out of their hands.

None of them had been surprised to see Henry Bowers, Vic, Belch, and Patrick. They were stupid seventeen year old bullies who had nothing better to do with their lives than hurt other people.

But all of them had been surprised to see the knife.

"Bowers..." Beverly said quietly, stepping closer to Ben, who still has an almost-H scar on his belly.

"Come on, man, not on my birthday." Richie said, struggling against them. 

The groups are at a standstill, facing across from each other. One of Henry's goons is on each of Richie's arms and Patrick his holding him from behind, locking him in place. Henry waves the knife teasingly. "Of course, on your birthday! I heard all the commotion. I just came to help." He smiles, and Richie jerks, yet remains locked in his position.

"You're a fucking asshole."

"Don't tempt me!"

"Well, you're gonna do it anyway, asshole!" Richie shouts back, causing Henry to step closer to him.

Eddie is holding onto Stan's- who happened to be next to him- arm, and his grip becomes tighter, almost bruising. Stan doesn't say anything.

Richie feels his heart slamming in his chest, feeling like he may explode. It's too much. He doesn't know why he's so scared. He's been beat up by Henry and his friends before, and he's fought back before, but he's never felt such numb terror gripping at him, freezing him. Maybe it's the added addition of the knife.

Then Richie gets an idea. Not a very smart one, but it's an idea.

Henry Bowers is in his face, too close, sneering, flaunting his weapon. _And Eddie looks terrified._

Richie does the only logical thing.

He spits in Bower's face.

The next few moments pass by very slowly.

First, Henry slashes. There's a collective cry from the Loser club and he sees them all rush towards him, but not before the searing pain across his chest flares up, burning like fire. Then, there's a scream. It's not from Richie- he had grunted, but contained himself- but from someone else. The person who screamed falls, but Richie didn't exactly see who because there were already fists in his face making the scene blurry and his chest hurts so badly and now he's shouting Eddie's name but other voices are too? He feels fists and feet and hands and pulling and pushing and then he feels nothing, feels himself smack onto the ground, feels the burning of rocky pavement against his cheek. Then he can breath. He coughs, trying to get onto his knees. He feels more hands, flinching away until he realizes it's from his friends rather than bullies.

"Richie? Richie, can you hear me?" Richie wants to say yes, but his ears are ringing and everything sounds like he's underwater.

Richie sits up, and he realizes that he can't see. His glasses aren't on his face anymore, and his other eye is all red. He sees a shape on the ground on all fours, wheezing in a yellow shirt and red shorts, and vaguely recognizes who it is. "Eddie?" He mumbles.

"Richie, over here. Let's focus on you first." A voice calls out. Richie feels a hand on his face and then his head is being turned to face Bill, who's pushing something closer to Richie. His glasses! He feels them rest on his nose and slip over the tops of his ears, slotting into place. One eye is still all red, but Richie can see out of the other one despite a small crack on the lense.

"His eye, Bill." Most likely Bev murmurs. Richie's ears are startling to clear up. She reaches her hand out to Richie's face. Her thumb swipes across his eyes and he blinks a few times. The red is gone but his eye still stings. By now he's realized he's breathing heavily and some part of him feels _shocked. _Like, utterly shocked. That makes sense, he supposes. He hadn't been expecting to get beat up on his birthday. Still, it felt like something more.

Wheezing.

"... to calm down!" Someone is saying, and Richie can hear it clearly. He looks around for the voice- it's Stan, talking to Eddie, who is now sitting on a large rock with one hand pressed to his chest, the other clinging to his aspirator like it could save his life. The hypochondriac is gasping for air can Richie can see tears streaming down his face as his shoulders shudder. Guilt rips through Richie like a meteorite- this was his fault. He shouldn't have provoked Henry. The attack had scared Eddie.

As if on cue, Eddie's eyes snapped towards Richie. "This is not your fault." He says quickly.

"Jesus, Eds, you're acting like you're the one who had got beat up." He laughs. The joke isn't funny at all and a complete sentence makes Richie realize how sore his throat is- he had started screaming, after all. 

Eddie lets out a dry laugh. "Like, technically, I guess." He mutters, then smiles at Richie. The smile seems odd in such a grim situation, but it's truly happy. Stan bursts out laughing, which makes Mike start laughing, which makes Bev, which makes Ben, which makes Bill start.

Richie's confused for a second and then-

_Someone (Eddie) screaming._

_Eddie collapsing._

_The other's calling out Eddie's name._

_Eddie on the ground._

_Eddie wheezing._

_Eddie with his hand pressed against his chest._

_How had Eddie known the second Richie felt guilty?_

_Technically, I guess._

_Technically._

Richie is sitting on the pavement on his fifteenth birthday, surrounded by friends. He's got a cut across his chest dripping blood, his glasses are broken, and he's probably bruised everywhere.

But he's got a soulmate.

A fifteenth birthday is a big fucking deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey if you like my writing... check out my other reddie story :)  
_____  
...should i continue this??  
(update: i am!!)


	2. ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh what, you thought i would just write fluff? fools. that's for later <3

_S__oulmates_, Richie thinks as he clings onto Mike. When he had first stood up, he felt a wave of dizziness and had almost fallen, which resulted in Mike dipping under his arm to hold him up. He adjusts his glasses before they slip down his nose with his free hand.

"What should we do?" Mike asks, scanning the face of all the other Losers.

"I can patch him up." Ben offers. "I couldn't last time 'cause it was me, but I can this time." It goes unspoken that Eddie- who is having an asthma attack, probably a panic attack, and feeling the pain of Richie's attack- can't be the one to do it. "We just gotta get him to the pharmacy alley." After Ben had gotten sliced up, the Losers didn't think it would be smart to just throw out their extra emergency supplies, instead hiding them in a box in the same alley they (Eddie, really) doctored Ben in.

The group agrees that Mike and Ben should be the two who bring him, but Richie quickly protests. "Just bring me home." He says quickly, shaking his head. He didn't feel like dealing with his friends pestering questions, and he's extremely distraught over being soulmates with Eddie.

Distraught isn't the correct word. He's fucking elated, is what he is. Except he thinks- _knows _that this is some colossal universe fuck-up. Richie Tozier is hyper active, annoying, and though he gets good grades in school, he's the stupidest smart person you'll ever meet. Eddie Kaspbrak is... not that. He's sweet and caring and genuinely intelligent and everything Richie is not.

Richie does not deserve Eddie. Eddie does not deserve to be burdened with Richie.

That's a simple fact.

"Not even you can talk your way out of this to your parents!" Stan states, his hand comfortingly resting on Eddie's knee. Eddie has started to calm down, but he's staring at Richie with his eyes bugging out of his head. He's probably thinking about how unlucky he is.

"Yeah, I can't. I don't really care. I want to go home." Richie retaliates, hardly aware of what he's saying. He just wants to be in bed. Richie does not deserve Eddie.

"We're not going to just leave you like this." Bev adds.

"I'll be with my parents." Eddie does not deserve to be burdened with Richie.

"B-b-b-but d-don't you want our h-h-help?"

"No." Richie does not deserve Eddie.

"We want to help you."

"I don't care. Please, just-" Eddie does not deserve to be burdened with Richie.

"Richie-"

"Bring me home!" Richie does not deserve Eddie. As he shouts, Eddie winces and Richie can't tell if it's because the shouting or the pain that shoots through his abdomen.

The sudden influx of noise startles the others and they acquiesce. Bill quietly offers to drive Richie doubles and have Stan ride Richie's bike back (Stan and Bill had ridden there on the same bike). Eddie's Richie-pains were subsiding (pain didn't last as long when you weren't the soulmate who actually received it) and he insisted that in a few minutes he'll be able to ride his bike home, so every bike was accounted for. He didn't say much else other than that.

The ride home was silent, Richie loosely holding onto Bill while Stan trailed slightly behind them. When they arrived, Stan laid Richie's bike on his front lawn after dismounting it, telling Bill he'll wait outside for a ride home while he helps Richie in.

Bill helped Richie off his bike, asking if the ride had hurt him much. Truthfully, Richie told him that he was fine, it was just flesh wounds, but he'd be lying his if said at some parts he was sure that Eddie could feel the bursts of pain that struck whenever he would twist too much one way. Bill also had a faint pink line of blood on his back, mirroring the darker one on the front of Richie's shirt. The bleeding had stopped- it wasn't as deep a wound as the Losers originally thought- so Richie definitely was better off than they had first imagined. Still, Richie was visibly shaken up.

When he entered the house, he received a low whistle from Wentworth. "Birthday beating?" He asks, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah. Henry." Richie replies quickly, sitting down. He wasn't dizzy anymore, so he ruled out that he had a concussion, but he didn't feel like standing anyway.

Then, Maggie walks in, tutting. "Richard, what have you gotten yourself into?"

"H-H-H-Henry Bow-wuh-weh-wers had a b-buh-bad day, apparent-ly." Bill answers for him.

Maggie sighs, licking her thumb and sliding it across his cheek, presumably rubbing off some blood that dried there. It hurts, and Richie concludes he had a bruise there. "Well, at least today it could come in handy. Did Beverly end up being your soulmate?" She asks, laughing.

Richie knows his parents have good intentions, but seeing how unconcerned they are about him makes his stomach churn. Sure, he's not _dying _or anything, but he had a line of blood soaked through his shirt and his mom is giggling about it like a school girl.

"Whoever your soulmate is, she's probably regretting it right about now!" Wentworth exclaims, chuckling at his own joke. Maggie giggles some more.

_Richie does not deserve Eddie. Eddie does not deserve to be burdened with Richie._

Richie's stomach churns again and he feels like hurling. He quickly stands up from his chair, causing it to push back and fall down with a loud bang, to which his parents stop their giggling. "Fuck you. Fuck both of you!" He screams. Bill frowns, putting his hand on Richie's arm and opening his mouth like he's about to say something, but Richie shoots him a look that screams _shut up. _Promptly, Bill closes his mouth.

"The town psychopath knifed me and you two are laughing about my soulmate _wishing I wasn't their soulmate?_ Fuck you! You two are the most self-centered pieces of shit- I'm your kid! I could have died! But I hope you got off a good one!" He yells. Kicking the chair out of the way and storming out, Richie is fuming.

He walks outside, ignoring Stan's question about what happened, grabbing his bike and sitting down on it. By now, Bill had followed him outside, but Richie ignored him, too.

Richie's unsure about how fast he's pedaling, but he knows it's faster than he's ever gone before. He's on his way to Beverly's house, wishing and praying that her father isn't home so that he could talk to her. He needs to talk to her. One of the many things Bev is exceptional at is keeping secrets: she's never told anyone about Richie's crush on Eddie, though he suspects Stan had figured it out on his own, and he also knows that she's never told anyone about Ben's New Kid on the Block obsession that Richie only found out about because he had walked into Ben's house one day to find them belting in while jumping on the bed, using hairbrushes as microphones.

As he continues his way to Beverly's house, his thoughts slow down more and more.

He thinks about Eddie falling, Eddie screaming, Eddie wheezing and staring at Richie like he was scared.

He thinks about how he doesn't deserve Eddie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)


	3. iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beverly!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter isn’t edited yet so apologies in advance....

Upon seeing her father isn't home, Richie knocks on the door to Beverly's house and waits for her to answer, impatiently jittering his hand by his side, his eyes skittering around and looking at the marking on the door-post. After a few seconds, the door opens to reveal his red-headed friend, who looks both confused and concerned upon his arrival.

In his times of need, Richie had gone to Eddie a lot, but he also looked to Bev for guidance. She had a knack for giving great advice (most of the time) due to being the only female of the Losers club- she constantly had a different outlook on life that differed from the other boys, which Richie appreciated. A change of speed is always nice. She never seemed to get bothered by Richie's dramatics either, or if she did, she never said anything. Being calmed down by Beverly when he started spiraling is something he's grateful he found in the Losers club- with such an overactive imagination, it's easy for him to start conjuring up worse and worse ideas.

"Richie, why are you here?" She asks, stepping back and pulling the door with her to invite him in. He walks in and promptly realizes his shirt is still bloody and he looks exactly the same as half an hour ago when he had gotten beaten up. "You're still dirty." She points out.

"Yeah." Richie sighs. "Can I use your bathroom?"

Beverly nods, and they both know that she realized that Richie blatantly ignored her first question. She just just her chin towards the direction of the bathroom, telling him she'll be waiting in her kitchen for him. He mumbles a thank you and makes his way to the bathroom, already knowing where it is without her directions.

He slips inside, closing the door behind him with a click. He approaches the bathroom sink and stares in the mirror for the first time since he got beaten up; theres a bruise on his cheek, a dried trickle of blood with a smudge mark in the middle from Maggie's spit, and his glasses have a crack in them. He proceeds to lift his shirt, checking his stomach and chest. There's a cut that matches the line of blood across his shirt and he thanks a higher power that Henry didn't cut his nipple off, because that would suck. There's a huge bruise on his left rib cage and above his right him, along with some other small ones that he hadn't really felt. His finger traces the bruise on his ribs and he's about to press on it out of pure habit when he remembers that Eddie would feel it too, and stops himself, letting out a sigh. Then he drops his shirt so it covers his body again and turns his attention to the mirror. He turns on the sink, not bothering to wait for warm water before splashing it on his face. It doesn't work like how it does on TV and it gets all over his shirt, so he resorts to clumping up some toilet paper and rubbing it across his face to get the sticky blood off, being careful around his bruise so as not to disturb Eddie. He does the same when he lifts his shirt once again and cleans his chest, deciding to use a different wet clump this time. When he's done, he flushes the wet toilet paper wads down the toilet and exits the bathroom to meet Beverly.

Like she said she would be, she's seated in the kitchen, cross-legged on the chair, tracing a pattern on the table. When Richie walks in, she looks up and smiles at him softly, her fingers pausing their dance.

"What's up?" She asks, stretching her hand out and patting the table in front of a chair. Richie takes this cue to sit there.

"I think you know."

"I think so, too."

Richie swallows. "It's Eddie. Obviously."

Bev chuckles. "Yeah, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes and leaning forward, resting her elbow on the table and placing her cheek in her hand. "Are you upset that it's him?" She asks curiously, furrowing her eyebrows. They both know Richie had- has- a crush on Eddie, which is probably why she seemed so shocked about his reaction to the whole soulmate thing.

"No!" Richie quickly responds. "No, that's not it at all. I just feel like... Well, when it was just a crush, it was just a silly kid thing, you know? It was surmountable. I'd get over it. Except, now I won't."

This causes Bev to furrow her eyebrows more, her lips parting slightly before she continues. "Why would you want to get over it?"

At this, Richie laughs a little, reaching up and pushing his glasses up his nose. "He doesn't like me back." He states, like it was written on a piece of paper in front of Beverly in all caps and highlighted bright pink. "Why would someone like him even consider someone like me? We're just friends. And that's okay, I'm not-"

"You think Eddie doesn't like you." She interrupts.

"Yes."

"Did you consider that... you're wrong?"

"He doesn't-"

"You don't get to decide Eddie's feelings for him because you're scared." Beverly scoffs, her hand coming off her cheek to flourish her statement. She scoots the chair closer into the table- therefore closer to Richie- and sticks her hands flat out on the table, pressing her palms to the wood.

"I'm not doing that!" Richie defends.

"You're scared he'll reject you, so you're telling yourself that you're not good enough so he doesn't do it first. If Eddie were a girl, I'd say it's misogynistic, but he's not, so it's more just you being a dick."

"I'm not a misogynist!"

Bev rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I know. My dad's a misogynist. Anyway," She glares at Richie, but he knows she's not actually mad at him. "Have you considered that Eddie might be happy about being your soulmate, despite the second-hand beating? Have you considered that I had to listen to both of you about your crushes on each other?"

Richie blinks at her. "That's not funny." He says quietly, fixing his glasses again. "That's really not funny."

Bev keeps her face straight, unwavering. "I'm not trying to be funny."

"I didn't consider that. It's not like it happened anyway." Richie continues, but he sounds unsure.

"You're fucking stupid."

"Yes, I am." Richie responds instinctually. "And he doesn't like me."

Suddenly, Beverly's on her feet, her hands still outstretched on the table so she's towering over Richie. "You bet your fucking ass he does. He talks about you all the time. To Stan, too. Stan said he cried one time about it to him."

Richie stares up at Bev, listening to her words yet not comprehending them. Maybe she's lying to make him feel better? He could ask Stan, and then Stan would tell him he's delusional and that Bev is lying.

And it's not like two boys should be soulmates, anyways.

The thought hits Richie with force, and he stands up too, backing away from the chair and the table quickly. "I gotta go."

Beverly smirks. "Yeah you do, loverboy." 

She probably thinks he's going to see Eddie.

He's not.

Instead, he races out of the Marsh household, speeds home, and runs into his room without a word to his parents. He quickly tears his bloody shirt off and throws it in the trash, considering it's gross and teared up. He tosses on pajamas and gets to bed, trying to fall asleep as quickly as possible so he doesn't have time to think of anything else. Laying in bed, dipping in an out of a dream-like state, Richie is quickly jolted awake from a pain in his knee. His hand flies to it to stop whatever is hitting him, but he finds nothing there.

Unbeknownst to Richie, his soulmate had accidentally slammed his knee into a desk a few streets away.

He dreams of Eddie.


	4. iv.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eddie's side of things

"H-Happy fifteenth birthday." Eddie tells Richie- the whole club was walking back from a celebration they had at the quarry for his fifteenth birthday. He was the first of the group to turn fifteen, and part of Eddie had been wanting to go up to him an pinch him the entire day, trying to see if maybe he'd feel the pinch, too. But he held himself back. No need to get his hopes up.

They are on their way to their bikes, which were planted a bit away from where they entered the quarry, considering they'd get in trouble for jumping into it if they were caught. Ben was the one who had suggested they don't leave their bikes hanging around to link them to the 'crime'. That had made Beverly laugh.

"Eds, you're so adorably sweet!" Richie teases back, draping his arm over Eddie's shoulder and putting their heads together. Eddie is about to tell him not to call him that for the billionth time when a new voice rings out.

"Happy fifteenth birthday, fag!" It says, and everyone stops. It's that fucking lunatic, Henry Bowers, who is obviously up to no good. Eddie's thoughts are proved correct when he feels Richie jerk back from him, and he feels his stomach drop. He attempts to grab at Richie in order to keep him away from the bullies, but they're too fast. His fingers link with the floral shirt for a moment before sliding off, sending Richie backwards into the clutches of evil known as entitled psycho republicans.

Eddie hates this. He hates how scared he feels, how his hand is shaking, how if he wasn't frozen, staring at Richie, he would be desperately searching for his inhaler he doesn't really need. Richie is clearly struggling- Patrick Hockstetter his behind him, howling him by the neck, while Vic and Belch have his arms, meaning all Richie can do is kick his legs but even that wouldn't have much effect.

Especially when Eddie sees the knife in Henry's hand.

_He's gonna kill him. _Eddie thinks immediately, and sheer terror rips through him. It only makes sense that Henry would have snapped one of these days, but Eddie had never considered it would be his friend group Henry would snap at. There were plenty of other kids he tortured. Eddie hadn't allowed himself to ever imagine this situation: six children frozen in fright, four executioners, and a prisoner who's only crime is a rumor that he's gay.

"Bowers..." Beverly warned, being the only one who ironically had the balls to say anything. She protectively gets closer to Ben, who is no doubt wondering if another Loser can get out of this situation for the second time.

"Come on, man, not on my birthday." Richie jokes. He's trying to wriggle out of their grip, but it's not working. How is Richie joking at a time like this? Eddie can't _fucking _breath.

"Of course, on your birthday! I heard all the commotion. I just came to help." Henry taunts, flashing his knife around like it's a toy and they're all five years old.

"You're a fucking asshole." Richie hisses. Eddie feels his knees shake. Stupid, stupid, shut your mouth, Trashmouth, please! He grabs Stan's arm now, his heart slamming against his chest. Someone's breathing really loud. Is it Eddie? He can't tell.

"Don't tempt me!" Henry growls- he doesn't doubt for a second that Henry's going to make the next few minutes excruciating for the seven of them.

"Well, you're gonna do it anyway, asshole!"

Eddie can't move or talk, but if he could, he'd beg someone to do something. Bill, who's the leader, is standing in front of all them, closer to Henry than any of the others except Richie. But he knows nobody can do anything now. Henry has the knife and a hostage.

And then Henry has a wad of spit from Richie's mouth flying at his face.

Eddie can't even mentally scold Richie's stupidity before Henry kills him.

Okay. In hindsight, Eddie should have realized that Henry hadn't stabbed Richie or even slashed his skin too deep, but at the time, Eddie had genuinely thought Henry had murdered Richie. The second he sees the knife make contact with Richie's skin and blood seep out the cut, his heart feels like it splits. There's a searing pain and he cries out, and while some Losers are yelling Richie's name, Stan and Mike are calling Eddie's. Eddie's grip on Stan's arm loosens and he falls, the heart-splitting pain still there, like a slash across his chest.

Like a knife slashed across his chest.

Eddie doesn't have time to process this thought because the pain gets worse, invisible punches and kicks landing all over his body. He's confused. He's scared. Stan is on his knees by his side and Mike is crouched on the other side of him, and both of them are probably asking him what's wrong but Eddie can't respond. All he can do is stare at the ground beneath him, shaking. He really can't breath now. Eddie vaguely realizes Mike leave and more shouting, then the onslaught of pain stops, leaving him aching. He looks over to Richie, who's similarly on the ground, but not covered with bullies. Instead, Henry and his gang are running away, laughing maniacally.

The boy next to him is saying words lowly to him, telling him to breath. "Eddie?" Richie's weak voice groans, but he can't respond. This is where Eddie realizes he's gasping for air, wheezing worse than he ever had. He pushes himself backwards so instead of being on his hands and knees, his sitting up back on top of his calves; the pavement hurts his knees but he can't care less.

Eddie blindly reaches his hand towards Stan. He's helped up. "Eddie, come on." Stan is saying softly, guiding him towards a large rock. Eddie sits on it, his knees shaking. He's still gripping Stan's arm, but has to let go in order to hastily yank his aspirator out of his fanny pack, bringing it to his lips and spraying it into his through, breathing gratefully.

"Richie's your soulmate!" Stan whisper-shouts once Eddie has finally received oxygen. 

The words resonate with Eddie, banging in his skull. "Richie's my soulmate." He repeats.

"At least that's cool, right?" Stan says. "That's good news, Eddie. Take deep breaths for me." 

"Is Richie dead?" Eddie asks next, even though he knows he isn't. Yet.

Stan quickly shoots a look over his shoulder, then incredulously looks back at Eddie. "Richie's fine."

Eddie brings his hand to his chest, feeling at an invisible cut with pain that's starting to go down for him already, but he knows not nearly as relenting for his best friend. Who is his soulmate. Who he has a massive crush on. Who is on the ground bleeding, and just got the shit beaten out of him. Eddie's wheezing gets worse. 

"You need to calm down!"

Suddenly, Eddie feels a wave of guilt wash over him that he instinctively knows is not his own- his eyes immediately turn towards Richie, who is surrounded by the other four Losers. He's staring at Eddie with sad eyes that tell Eddie the guilt is not his own.

"This is not your fault." Eddie reassures him.

"Jesus, Eds, you're acting like you're the one who had got beat up." Richie laughs, but it's shaky and sounds painful.

Eddie lets out a weak laugh of his own. "Like, technically, I guess." He says calmly, looking to his soulmate. He can't help it- _his soulmate- _and breaks out into a huge grin. He's had a crush on Richie for forever now, and Bev had insisted that is was reciprocated but never told him why she thought that. And now Richie's his soulmate.

Stan starts to laugh, which creates a chain reaction. Soon, the five other all are laughing hysterically while Eddie watches Richie's expression go from confused, to shocked, then to-

Eddie's heart stops.

Richie looks _sad._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't wait for things to get better but for now richie is drinking stupid sauce <3


	5. v.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> braincells?

_Eddie, doubled over, wheezing, in pain. "This is all your fault!" He's saying, but he's choking his words out through coughs. Richie can only watch- the more he runs towards his soulmate, the further he gets._

_"Help him!" Someone cries behind him. It's a boy's voice and it's desperate, but there's hands clawing at Richie, pulling him backward, and Richie can only stare stare stare as Eddie gets further and further-_

When Richie wakes up with a start, he doesn't remember his dream, but the first thing he thinks about is Eddie. He doesn't mind. He selfishly allows himself to dwell on the thought for a few minutes, thinking about what Beverly said, thinking about hands touching him but not in a bad way, thinking about Eddie Eddie Eddie.

And then he tells himself to snap out of it.

He turns his head to check his clock to see what time it is- one quick glance out his window shows it's still dark outside, so it's definitely still early. The clock announces that it is 4:16 AM, but Richie doesn't feel tired at all. Maybe it's the dull pain of his cut that he should definitely put gauze over, or maybe it's the small section of his brain that had produced the memory of Eddie in pain and so proudly flaunted it to Richie while he slept, but something is keeping Richie up.

Then he feels it: a pinch on his arm, despite there being no fingers there to pinch him. He waits a few seconds, and then feels it again. He thinks of Eddie sitting in his bedroom, pinching himself. Richie waits a bit longer and then pinches his own skin, now imagining Eddie sitting on his bed and maybe even _smiling_ when he feels Richie's pinch back. It's another selfish thought, but Richie lets himself have it, anyway.

The pinching was probably just an accident.Perhaps Richie had only imagined it and just randomly pinched Eddie. Great. Now he's an asshole.

A detached feeling of sadness washes over him uninvited, and his stomach churns. Between the shock of Eddie being his soulmate and the guilt he has from it, Richie has been feeling horrible. Briefly, he wonders if the sadness isn't his own.

Richie doesn't realize he fell back asleep until he wakes up the next morning. His first thought is Eddie. Again.

_____

He pinched back. Eddie was laying down in bed when he had hesitantly pinched himself, just to try it.

And Richie pinched back.

He didn't know if it meant, _stop annoying me _or _i'm trying to make peace, _but either way, the thought of Richie reacting to him is better than Richie ignoring him.

Ignoring everything.

Everything they've been through had settled into the dust the second Henry had pulled Richie away from the group, because as far as Eddie knows, he's been ignoring all of them. Which is stupid. Eddie's strongest theory is that Richie is unhappy about being soulmates with him, but he tries to rationalize. Richie's his friend. They've had a sort of... romantic tension for a while, really. Or maybe it was all in Eddie's head and Richie is wishing that literally anyone else could have been his soulmate.

Fuck.

Eddie pinches arm again. This time he receives no pinch back.

The Losers Club is hanging out today, Eddie thinks with unfiltered joy. Which means Richie will be there. They're all going to the quarry again- it's summer, after all- which means not only will Richie be there, he will be there _shirtless, _which is a lot more exhilarating now that they're soulmates.

Eddie's usually the last one to the quarry. First, he has to convince his mom to let him go. Then, he has to patiently wait for her to drench his skin with sunscreen for as long as possible to stall. Which means he has to be start leaving more than forty minutes early. When Eddie finally arrives at the quarry cliff, everyone is sitting in their underwear, talking.

Everyone except for Richie.

They all become quiet, turning to him as he approaches. That isn't normal- usually, anyone joining can just slide into the conversation like they were there the whole time. Instead, there's a silence as he sits in the deformed circle the group made themselves into.

"He's not here?" Eddie asks, unsure if it's a question or a statement. They all easily know who he's referring to.

Bill clears his throat. "N-no, he s-s-said he's not c-coming."

Eddie nods, trying to hide his disappointment. He wonders if Richie, somewhere off avoiding them (Eddie, really), can feel it.

The rest of the day carries on. Eventually, Bev starts off the jumping into the water and is quickly followed by everyone else. They splash around in the water for a while, but Eddie feels like something's missing. He quickly realizes that something is Richie, who would always be splashing and pushing and pulling and shoving. They would constantly wrestle and basically down each other, but Eddie would be lying if he said that jumping on Richie's back and feeling him pressed against him was a feeling he would miss until Richie comes to his senses.

If Richie comes to his senses.

Fingers pruning and bodies shivering, the club one by one makes their way out of the water. Beverly suggests they make plans to meet up the next day, but most of them are busy. Mike has chores, Ben promised his mother he'd help her cook, Stan has Shabbat at night, and it goes unspoken that Richie isn't coming. This leaves Bill, Bev, and Eddie. Now it wasn't that Eddie is particularly opposed to Bill, but he had plans of his own to bitch and moan to Beverly about all his problems and he'd rather not Bill saw that side of him. However, Eddie would never exclude Bill. He's saved when Bill says that he got in a fight with his father before coming today and that he probably won't be allowed out of the house tomorrow. Which kind of worked perfectly for Eddie.

"You can come over tomorrow. My dad leaves at three, but he's home at nine so you need to be gone by then." She reminds Eddie, even though he's already acutely aware of this information. Everyone is.

"Okay. I'll see you at three fifteen then." He smiles, but Bev makes a noise in her throat. "Is that a problem? Sorry, I can do later."

"I just- uh- just come at six, maybe?" She offers. 

Eddie wonders why, but the uncomfortable look on her face tells him not to ask. After all, if it was anything important, like _Richie, _then she'd tell him, right? He doesn't really feel like waiting until six tomorrow though; he turns to Stan. "Stanley, what time is it?" He asks because he knows the boy always has his watch on at all times.

"Five thirty-two." Stan responds, flipping his shirt correctly since it's inside out. All the others are getting clothed, and Eddie and Bev are, too, as they're conversing.

"Can I come over? I need to talk to you about- something." He says quietly. The whole group hears, naturally, and the atmosphere changes. Stan quickly pulls his shirt over his head, murmurs a goodbye, and Bill and the others are quick to follow. Bev smiles and agrees, telling him they can bike there together.

"Okay. Richie." She says as soon as they walk into the door of her house. She brings him to the kitchen and has him sit in a chair (unknowingly the same one Richie sat in the day before), then sits in her own and folds her hands under her chin. "Enlighten me."

Eddie has no idea what fucking happens.

He starts bawling.

He has no idea where this comes from- he had been feeling distressed, sure, but he hadn't realized he'd been on the verge of tears since he had found out they were soulmates and Richie's reaction had been... lack luster. But now that he's crying, he feels such a release of emotion. Beverly looks shocked too, standing up to be closer to him, rubbing his back soothingly and calling him 'honey' and 'baby'.

After a while of a kitchen filled only with the sound of tears and hiccups, Eddie manages to calm himself down with a coupling of Beverly's soft words and his inhaler.

"Woah." Beverly says quietly, finally returning to her seat after about twenty minutes of straight crying. Eddie totally just kicked toxic masculinity in the ass.

"I don't know what just came over me." Eddie replies weakly. "It's really only been a day and I just feel like such shit?" He supplies. When Beverly only looks at him expectantly, he continues. "I've had a crush on Richie for so long. It's just been something correct, and I've been ashamed of it, because we weren't soulmates. But we are. And even though we found out in a less than fortunate way and I didn't exactly process it at first, I was happy when the news settled in. But he wasn't! He wasn't. And now I've lost him as a friend and I certainly have no chance of anything more than that." At the end of his rant, he feels more tears coming down. He holds back sobs, but he knows his throat is bobbing and he's making ugly noises.

If Eddie could read minds, he'd see that Beverly is internally having a breakdown, trying to decide whether or not to tell Eddie that Richie had sat in the same spot and said almost the same thing to her, but eventually convinces herself that that isn't her place to tell and that Richie would probably come to his senses.

However, Eddie cannot read minds, so he only sits there and cries while looking to Bev for answers.

They end up talking for a while with Beverly acting like she doesn't know exactly how Richie feels; she tells Eddie that Richie is _probably_ just confused and _probably _likes him back, which Eddie denies. Beverly wants to break a vase, but that would get her killed, so she doesn't do that.

Men are infuriating, she's come to realize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> seeing all the kudos and comments make my day. tysm guys! <3


	6. vi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some feelings and a lot of italicization

It had been weird for Richie to know that all the Losers were hanging out and that he wasn't there, despite totally being able to make it. If it were the day before, he would have jumped out of bed and biked to the quarry faster than you can say "Richie Tozier is a stupid asshole".

But it wasn't the day before. It was the second morning of fifteen-year-old Richie Tozier, the lucky boy who's soulmates with Eddie Kasprak. The lucky boy who arrived at Beverly's house at three and has to leave before six because her dad will be home early.

Currently, he and Beverly are sitting on her bed. Beverly is cross-legged, Richie lying his head in her lap, staring up at the ceiling as her fingers dance in his curls. They had talked about Eddie for a while before their conversation progressed into other things, because Richie had forced it to. He didn't want to talk about Eddie or think about him or listen to Bev tell him that he's stupid and Eddie's secretly been in love with him for years. Because that's stupid. The universe sucks. It wouldn't do that for Richie. No, Richie is the kind of guy that gets knifed on his birthday. That's his relationship with the universe: they aren't close pals.

Maybe this is why there's a lull in the conversation, and Bev conveniently swoops in.

"Eddie's upset you're avoiding him. And don't say you're not, because you totally are."

"Can't we just have a nice time together and not talk about how much my life sucks?"

"That's the _thing!" _Bev declares. "Your life doesn't suck! You're just making it suck because... well, I don't really know why."

"I'm being realistic."

"You're being ignorant. Get up." She pushes his head off her lap, signaling that he should sit up. Which means this is a Serious Conversation. Richie pushes himself up, leaning back on his palms for a second before switching his position so he can face Beverly without having to turn his neck. Once he's comfortable, he raises his eyebrows, signaling to his friend to start talking. "I don't know what's up with this self-sabotage, but you need to get over yourself, Richie. You're cute and funny and Eddie's best friend. And his soulmate. The fact that you aren't all over this is incredibly dumb-"

"I am all over this! But Eddie doesn't like me back!" Richie throws his legs over the side of the bed, huffing, then facing the floor.

Beverly throws her hands up, standing up from the bed with them. "I already told you he does!"

"He could have- _changed_ his mind!" Richie follows her to his standing position. As he says 'mind' he leans forwards slightly and pokes his head about ten times really fast, as if he's drilling his own sentence into his brain.

"He _didn't! _Trust me!" Beverly says.

"Stop it! Stop it, Beverly!" Richie shouts. His voice crack is surprising- almost like he's going to cry- but he doesn't. "Please, just stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop saying- _saying_ these things because I care about him somuch and I don't want to see him get hurt. I'm not good for him."

"You're hurting him by doing this, dipshit." Bev replies, her voice dangerously low.

"He'll get over it."

"You're his soulmate. He won't."

"He can try."

"You can _try_. Try to man up and not be so fucking scared of implausible rejection that won't happen. But you won't, so why should he? Why does he have to be the only one making sacrifices?"

"I'm not happy with this either, Bev! I'm hurting too!" Richie is shouting now, his fingers aggressively tapping his chest. They eventually fall to his sides, but his hands are still balled up. "I love him! I love him, but I'm not good for him!"

"You don't get to decide that!" Bev shouts back, carding her fingers through her hair. She takes a step back from him, then takes a deep breath in an attempt to cool off. "Richie, he cried to me for twenty minutes about how shitty you're making him feel. About how he loves you. Please," She rushes forwards and grabs her friend's hands in her own. "Please, stop this. I am so, so sorry you feel like how you do." One of her hands goes to his cheek, resting there gently. "But you are not a burden. You are not a mistake. Your happiness is worthwhile. You don't have to punish yourself. You deserve happiness. You deserve love. You deserve _Eddie. _And you don't have to be here talking with me- you can go find him at any point and apologize and I'm sure he'll understand, but not if you take too long. It's not too late yet. Please, Richie, don't do this to yourself. Or to Eddie. You deserve a happy ending. " She quickly swipes her thumb underneath his eye, much like how she had swept blood from it two days prior. This time, she's wiping away tears.

Richie stares at her blankly. _He loves you. _She had said, and she hadn't been lying. _You are not a burden. _Richie shuts his eyes and squeezes, pushing the last of his lingering tears out. _You deserve happiness. You deserve love. _Richie's heart swells with love for the girl in front of him, throwing his arms around her neck and hugging her, pulling her close. She responds by wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his neck, mumbling about just wanting to see him happy. This only makes him hug her tighter. They remain there for quite a time, the two of them ignoring it every time Richie's throat makes a noise because he's so desperately holding back tears. Eventually, he pulls away.

"I should go see Eddie."

A smile breaks onto Bev's face and she nods quickly. "Please, do. I can't stand much more of this."

"Me neither." Richie laughs. Bev pushes him away, pressing her hand against his face, to which he responds by laughing more and sticking his tongue out to lick it. "Your hand tastes like snails, mademoiselle." Richie says in an over-the-top French voice, making a weird face and twirling an invisible mustache. 

Beverly flips him off. "Literally leave my house." She wipes her hand off on her green overalls.

"Fine, fine." He says, throwing his hands up in mock surrender and rolling his eyes. He leaves her bedroom after giving her a proper hug good-bye. He leads himself out the front door, throwing it open, planning to retrieve his bike and zoom his way to Eddie's house.

The plan is simplified, though. 

Eddie's already right in front of Richie, frozen in his tracks on his way up the front steps.


	7. vii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> an ending :)

  
  
Richie would be an idiot to think Eddie can't see how red his eyes are from crying and how messy his hair is. (Unbeknownst to them, the clock strikes 6:30, starting an exact eleven year and forty-seven day countdown.)

"Eddie." He says quietly, pulling his glasses up his nose.

"Richie." Eddie responds.

"I didn't know that you'd be here." He sounds nervous, but not angry, which instantly makes Eddie feel relieved.

"I can say the same." They aren't making eye contact. Eddie pointedly stares at the ground to the left of Richie, doing his best to minimize the glances he takes at his soulmate's face. He wants to look, and to stare, and to kiss, but that's not what Richie wants. And who's Eddie to take what he can't have? A mixture of shock and sadness is spilling through his body, feelings that he can't decipher are his own or that of the boy in front of him. He decides that it doesn't really matter. He wonders if he'll be able to feel it when Richie falls in love with someone else.

"We should talk." Richie says.

Eddie's eyes snap towards him- he had been expecting to be ignored, brushed off. Richie doesn't owe him anything and he doesn't like him as anything more than a friend. If he even still likes him as a friend. _Oh. _Richie probably wants to tell Eddie not to every contact him again, or something-

"No, I don't want to talk to you." He rushes out, surprising himself. Maybe he can pretend for a second that he still has a chance at fixing their friendship if Richie doesn't swoop in and tell him it's all completely over.

There's a small huff from Richie. "Please." He says desperately. When Eddie doesn't say anything, he continues, "Please, Eds. I need y- to talk to you." (He is scared to say he needs him, but he does. By the time eleven years and forty-seven days pass, he will be well over that fear.)

Eddie feels his jaw wobble as he opens it again, then closes it. The use of the nickname caught him off guard, and suddenly talking to Richie is the only thing he wants to do. Except to tell him not to call him Eds. But this isn't the time. "Fine. Not... here, though."

Richie perks up. "Where?"

"I'll meet you at the clubhouse in twenty minutes. I... need to talk to Beverly." He points to the door of the Marsh household. 

Richie nods once, fixes his glass again, and walks down the steps. "See ya, Eds." As he passes Eddie, their arms brush; Eddie honest-to-god shivers, grateful Richie was walking the other way so he couldn't see. (Eleven years and forty-seven days later, a touch from Richie still makes him shiver. That doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon.)

He makes his way up the steps and opens the door to the household, not bothering to knock- he and Beverly are past that. Beverly is actually the only Loser who ever knocks. They all have their own theories, which they shared one day at Ben's house, but Beverly insisted that it's because it's only polite. And maybe she had accidentally seen something she shouldn't have seen. Now this caused the entire group to go to shambles, with everyone asking what the FUCK she meant by that, Bill insisting she probably just walked in on Richie wiping his ass, and Stan staying suspiciously quiet. That had been a fun day. Beverly never told what she saw.

He makes a beeline for Beverly's bedroom, opening the door. She's on her stomach on her bed reading a magazine. When he comes in, she looks up at him with an unimpressed look.

"I hate you two." She says neutrally, placing her magazine face-down.

Eddie scoffs. "I saw him outside."

With that, Bev scrambles off her bed and grabs Eddie by the shoulders. "What did he say?" She asks, her eyes wide. Eddie tried to search her face for what she thinks Richie was going to say so he can have a clue as to what's going to come, but Bev's expression is ambiguous. Her shocked, interested expression could be because Richie's about to tell Eddie to never speak to him again or... not that. Eddie can't think about it without blushing up to his ears. While Bev being the world's most trustworthy person has it's perks, it also sucks when you want information.

"Nothing. We're meeting in the clubhouse in twenty. I'm just giving him a head start. I didn't want to have to ride next to him for the entirety of the trip. That's fucking weird."

Bev smiles. "Are you excited?" (In eleven years and forty-seven days, Beverly will ask him the same question.)

And Eddie fucking breaks. That smile- that question- changes everything. If there's one thing Eddie's sure about, it's that none of the Losers want to see their friend upset, and Bev is certainly not an exception. She wouldn't have asked Eddie that question if Richie was going to straight up tell him he hates him. "It's good, isn't it? It's good news?" He asks, desperately searching Beverly's face again.

She sighs, her smile remaining on her lips. "You two are so stupid it hurts." She finally releases his shoulders, sitting back down on her bed, seemingly ending the conversation. She picks up her magazine. "Go to the clubhouse, dickwad." She says without looking up from the article.

In less than a minute, Eddie's flying. He's pedaling his bike so fast he's sure he's not even touching the ground, just whizzing to the clubhouse like a jet cutting through clouds. Silver has nothing on him right now. If Silver can beat the Devil, then Eddie can lap him. Twice. He's hardly aware of what's going on around him, just pedaling and pedaling fasted and faster, moving his feet because if he stops or slows down he's that much further from seeing Richie.

"Holy shit holy shit holy shit." He whispers to himself quietly as he abandons his bikes for the woods, looking around for the clubhouse door that Ben had built. When he reaches for the door, he notices he's shaking. Calming down would probably be the first step to stopping this, so he brings his hand back next to his side and takes deep, calming breaths. Richie sometimes makes him them match breaths when Eddie's having an asthma attack. 

He's never been this excited to go into the clubhouse before- in fact, he's always kind of hated it, so he didn't know why he suggested it. It's private, he supposes, but it's also filled with dirt and spiders that Eddie pretends he's not afraid of for Richie's sake. He thinks of being on the hammock with his soulmate, always sitting by his feet because behind shoulder to shoulder felt too intimate. That doesn't really matter anymore, though. He's his soulmate. Everything's intimate. Everything's perfect. Not at this second, but it should be in a few minutes.

If that's what this meeting is about.

The thought causes him to pause, his eyes avoiding the door like it were poison and looking at it would make him drop dead.

Then Beverly's voice rings through his head- _Are you excited?- _and suddenly he's opening the door and beginning his descent before his thoughts can tell him to stop. He climbs down the rungs, dropping his feet to the ground once he reaches the last.

Slowly, he turns, and sees Richie staring at him.

He's adorable. The boy's glasses are lower down his nose than usual, and he's standing there with his eyes abnormally large, even though his glasses already magnify them. His lips are slightly parted. Eddie thinks about kissing them. (For eleven years and forty-seven days and much, much longer that thought does not go away.)

"Hi. Richie." He says shyly, despite his excitement.

The words snap Richie out of his haze, causing him to push up his glasses and pull at the bottom of his red shirt, peppered with yellow Hawaiian flowers. "Eds." He responds.

Eddie waits. He doesn't really feel like it's him who should have to speak first.

"I'm sorry." Richie starts off. First, Eddie jumps to the conclusion that he's apologizing in advance for breaking his heart, but he sees Bev's smile in his mind and tells himself to snap out of it. "For avoiding you. I had some stuff... to figure out. Clearly."

Eddie is about to say it's okay, but the words die on his lips. It's not okay, what he did. It's not unforgivable, either. It's very forgivable. It's so forgivable Eddie says, "I forgive you." and like that, the whole situation could have never happened if it weren't for the cut across Richie's chest and the healing bruises.

Richie begins again. "I was scared of not being enough. For you. I didn't think I was good enough."

"That's not for you to decide." Eddie says immediately. There's a blooming happiness in his chest, an extra addition to what he already feels, and he knows its from Richie. He knows that Richie is happy, Richie is looking at him and he is happy, not scared or disappointed or _sad_. 

Richie smiles. It's a very welcome sight. "That's what Bev said." He laughs quietly before continuing. "Eddie, I love you, and I'm really glad you're my soulmate. And... I hope that you do, or one day you will, feel the same way."

Eddie. Cannot. Function. Like. A goddamn. Human. "I do!" He quickly spits out, too shocked and _in love _that he can't think. (That is also what he will say in about eleven years and forty-seven days, except in front of a priest and the people who love them instead of by themselves in a dank clubhouse, but he doesn't consider this at the time.) "I love you. I'm so, so, happy that it's you. Even if I had to take a beating. I'd do it again."

By now, Richie is beaming. Eddie can feel it head to toes. "Yowza." He whispers, loud enough that Eddie can hear it and giggle. Richie shyly steps forward, his lips still parted. Eddie thinks about kissing him again, so he does.

It's very soft, and there's no tongue, but there doesn't need to be. Eddie's hand is pressed against Richie's chest, subconsciously placed below his slash even though that's the last thing Eddie is thinking about right now. Richie's right hand is cupping his cheek.

Surrounding him and encasing him is Richie. How he smells, and how he feels physically underneath Eddie's hands, but also the pulsating love that run through Eddie's body that he's sure Richie feels, too. The kiss doesn't even last very long. It doesn't need to.

They have time.

They remain in the clubhouse together, ending up in the hammock. There's no fake fight they make to cover up climbing in together. Instead, Richie lays down and Eddie follows him in, laying himself next to Richie, placing his head on his shoulder, and tangling their legs together. They talk for a while, but eventually fall into a mutual silence, enjoying the other's presence. Eddie couldn't be more happy. (Except for eleven years and forty-seven days later.)

Telling the Losers had been only natural and frankly, they expected it. None were surprised. Especially Bev, who stood up and announced that if any other people in the Losers club pull "this kind of bullshit" again, she would castrate them personally, which seemed oddly specific and oddly targeted at Bill, which confused Eddie and apparently Stan, too, judging by his shocked expression. Bev didn't think that Bill would be her soulmate, right? Obviously, if it were anyone in the Losers club, it would be Ben. Whatever. Eddie doesn't put much thought into it. (It takes way less than eleven years and forty-seven days for that made a lot more sense.)

At half past six, eleven years and forty-seven days after they first tell each other _'I love you'_, Eddie and Richie get married.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey!! if you like my writing and are interested in an it/st crossover fic, i have one coming out soon! go read it once it's out, if you'd like! <3  
____  
sneak peek:  
_____  
Georgie went missing.
> 
> Will hadn't known at first- none of them did. Bill was absent from school for a few days and nobody said anything about it, even when he wasn't around. Then he came back, and the other three had quickly started telling him 'he'll be back soon' and 'don't worry about it'.
> 
> "What happened?" Will had asked, glancing at the four other boys. El shared a similar confused expression. This made them pause, looking at him with wide eyes.
> 
> "G-g-go ahead and-d-d t-tuh-tell him, he-he-he'll find o-ow-ow-out an-n-nyway." Bill says, stuttering way more than usual.
> 
> "Bill's brother went missing." Eddie supplied quietly. Stan took hold of Bills hand, saying something reassuring.
> 
> Will hadn't been listening. Instead, he had turned to El, his eyes wide.
> 
> _I went missing._ He said without words.
> 
> _The Demogorgon is gone._ El replied. Will nodded and tried to calm his heart beat.
> 
> ____
> 
> update for clarification- the crossover above was a scrapped piece for another work! it's published :)


End file.
